PSA posters....circa 1937

I made my profile picture a poster about pneumonia...as I have pneumonia. Obviously armed with peasant stock and viking blood, I do not feel the effects of pneumonia as the average weak person does. Nonetheless...I have it.

This poster is circa the late 30's and was created by the WPA. I am not smart and don't know what that is. I am also lazy so all I know from wikipedia is that it is some New Deal thing. I read the first line and that was that. So it seems the WPA made posters to educated the people. Like a PSA.

I love these posters.

#1:

What the hell is this? Why does it not say what 6 + 8 equals. Who is this helping? What am I missing. I fear I may be an idiot.

#2:

What? Is this informational? Is this designed to bring horror or joy? Is this good or bad? I need more direction.







#3:

You too can have one of those dishwashing jobs you have always dreamed of. What?





#4:

What? They had e-vites in the 30's?











#5:

The teacher of this class sucks. Why is that person's eyes the opposite of cross-eyed? Is that even humanly possible.

#6:

No way Jose. If the government is advertising for folks to move in....I can't imagine what goes on...









#7:

Again with the sketchy storekeeper...what was going on with produce in the late 30's? Were all storekeepers shady? It is somewhat horrifying. Yet brings me back to the question I asked on Facebook...why do we have tamper proof seals on various dairy products but produce just sits out for anyone to inject a syringe of anthrax into? Who? Who is this dairy menace that is a threat to whipped cream?

#8:
wait...wait...wait...so is this the time before federal regulations? I would assume the milk man isn't soliciting crappy milk....but that is me. Happy to pay taxes to ensure I don't need to worry about such things - me. Wait - is this what people want? A society free of gov't regulation so we can PERSONALLY worry if milk was properly tested for disease? Odd.

#9.


The number of syphilis posters is disturbing. Apparently it was a real issue.

#10.


Is this a drinking and driving poster or are they telling you not to mix gasoline with your whiskey? Was that a popular cocktail. I really am lead to believe it is the later. I don't think it was even against the law until 1983.....at the earliest.

#11.


Like I said...lots of syphilis in those days...


#12.


Vague. So vague and so horrifying. What is going on? Did the common housefly have a deadly disease?

#13.





timeless







#14.


This explains the unaffectionate generations of 'ol.











#15.


Maybe the picture should show a man with gloves on....or some other contraption that involves hand protection.

Down with it.

I hate this:


FIRST LINE: "I am a college senior" The fact this little bitch is about to go on some self righteous diatribe and is a college senior - presumably 21 years old - is hilarious. It is hilarious to anyone that was 21. Yes - we all think we know everything at that age. But then we grow up a realize we knew shit about shit. The people that HONESTLY think they did in fact have it figured out at 21 or any age - ARE ASSHOLES that know SHIT about SHIT.

Dear Dummy,

I have some points to make:

1. You make minimum wage, work less than full time, and have no debt. Perhaps you should refrain from wasting your time writing shit on giant paper with a Sharpie (I'd love to know HOW YOU AFFORDED the Sharpie and that fancy paper - neither is cheap - they are strictly a middle class purchase not for the poverty level you live in) you should write a book, get your own TV show. Suzie Orman has NOTHING on your financial brilliance.

2. A state university? You act like that is a sacrifice. MOST PEOPLE go to state universities. OH.MY.GOD. Do you also make the sacrifice to breathe the same air as everyone? Drive on the same roads? WOW. You are a humanitarian.

3. You started saving for college at 17? WHAT THE FUCK? UNLESS you started school at 30 --- this statement is ABSURD at best. On this statement alone - you should have your degree revoked.

4. You got 'decent' grades and received NOT ONE...BUT TWO scholarships. Ok...I am going to call you BULLSHIT. You got decent grades and enrolled at a decent university and have scholarships flowing out your ass? Are you disabled? An orphan? A minority? Something is setting you apart. STOP BEING AN ASS!!!!

5. A scholarship is a handout you fucking asshole!!!!

6. The laundry list of shit you don't have. I don't have half that shit. WHY is this a sacrifice? When I was in college, we had a saying in my house "the alley shall provide"....when we needed a piece of furniture we would just roam alleys looking for shit. Stop being a little bitch. We've all been there. Some more than others.

7. Oh golly! And the rest - well...you got IT ALL FIGURED OUT!!! Congrats. I got news for you sweetheart, you live in a dream world. I hope life continues to be a piece of cake as it has been so you can look down on everyone else. Everyone else that has also worked hard and found themselves in situations they NEVER thought they'd be in when they were a know-it-all college senior.

When You're a Jet, You're a Jet

...from your first cigarette till your last dying day!!!!!!!!!!!

OR....something like that. It's from West Side Story.


I love a good musical.

I have a story in my life where I say "it was like West Side Story"

I like it. NO. I LOVE saying that.











What happened? Me. I happened.

There was a disagreement of some sort at a Filibertos.

Filibertos is a popular Mexican eatery for drunks. I could write an entire blog post about Fils. How you order. How you don't. How I nearly died on a bike trying to keep balance while holding a burrito while drunk. How I found a giant raw shrimp in the middle of my "Arizona burrito, no pico, plus sour cream"....but I won't. We are focusing on one evening.

So...some disagreement. Some white girls and some Hispanics.

West Side Story.

I, drunk, ironed it out. I wanted to make peace. Then , I, drunk, JUST HAD TO HAVE the last word. The Hispanics walk to the door. I am kneeling at a booth, holding a soda in my hand. I say some smart ass thing as they are walking out the door. The dude looks at me. "ahh crap" I think...just pissed him off. He back hands me across the face, knocks my drink out of my hand.

My friend, Mary, is up before my drink even meets the wall. She grabs him, punches him in the face.

IT. IS. ON.

WEST. SIDE. STORY.

I did nothing in this battle but provoke it. I didn't throw one punch. This shames me. But, it was confusing. I wasn't prepared. The insanity was overwhelming.

Suddenly there was punches to the head and screaming. At one point someone picked up one of the Hispanics and threw him across a condiment stand and straws went flying everywhere. It was the 4th of July of straws.

I am not kidding. You take away the blades and queer dancing...it was West Side Story.

I remember looking over at the workers at one point and they were all behind walls, watching with only their heads poking out.

It is Arizona. I can't believe no one had a gun. Someone yelled they were calling the police. My other friend said "NO NO NO. We are drunk, no calling the police".

The Hispanics left at a police threat and someone did call. The police were there in moments but the Hispanics already left. They were not new to crime. This was not their first rodeo, they backed their car out of the parking lot. In AZ we don't have front license plates so...this is a good idea. We couldn't get a plate number.

The police talked to us about it. One said "let me get this straight, you girls got in a fist fight with some Mexican thugs, are unharmed, and they ran away?"

Yes...yes...that is true.

It is a lesson to all. Do not fuck with me or my friends. Mostly my friends because I was worthless in this event.

The Unneccessary Honk

The number one thing in this world that sends me straight from calm normal human to an outraged, uncompromising, blind with rage lunatic is...the unnecessary honk.

Nuclear weapons? Child pornography? Genocide? No..no.no.no....couldn't care less.

AN UNNECESSARY HONK? OH YES! You give me an unnecessary honk and you have unleashed a God damn maniac.

I turn into one of those cartoon characters where they go red from toe to head and steam starts coming out of their ears. Then I squirm around in my seat screaming "DID YOU JUST FUCKING HONK AT ME?", but I am held in the seat belt, unable to move as erratically as I'd like.

That is when I become the person that likes to live dangerously. The person that is just begging to get shot.

I was reminded of this issue of mine because I got a U.H. when I was parking my car this evening. I park on the street. I saw someone was leaving. I pulled my car tight to the car behind it as to allow others to pass and put on the blinker. To everyone in the free world this means "go around me, fine sir, I'll be parking here". NOT to the dimwit that came up behind me 2 minutes later. He honked.

I didn't react as I normally would have. I just did a lesser restrained freak out and said "are you fucking mentally disabled? I am looking to park, go around me you dummy".

What the hell was that honk for? He did go around me. He had plenty of room.

I am not sure what more I could have done. Put out flares? Hire ramp workers to signal to this fool I was parking. I don't have the money for that every time I need to p-park...more importantly - I don't need the witnesses when my p-park skills are lacking.

I was so much calmer than normal. What is with me?

Typical me would have done what is right in this situation: Swing my car out into the middle of the road as to not let him pass.

I have a thing I do. If someone dare give me an unnecessary honk - I will do all in my power to give them reason to honk.

I am not talking about the polite honk that says "dude...go!"

I am talking the angry laying on the horn honk, like they are signaling me that I am about to murder a human honk.

Am I a perfect driver? Of course not. But, I have been driving for 18 years and I have never been in a real collision. I think that says something. The only times my car has met another car:

A cab driver hit me, he was in the wrong and there was no damage. I have NEVER in my life had someone look at me with such hate. BUT - I think he was angry I was a woman driving a car and that I was wearing western clothing. I kid you not...never have I had someone look at me like that.

Then there was that incident with the Special Olympic bowling team - BUT - I still say - not my fault. That bitch driving around the team let the person she hit go...whatever - long story. Point is - never have I been in an car damaging collision.

THE TIMES WHEN I LOST MY MIND ON THE UNNECESSARY HONKER:

CASE #1:
I was in the lane to make a left turn onto Western Avenue from Peterson. Two busy thoroughfares of Chicago. The light went yellow.

I have this crazy thing where...I value life. My life in particular. I don't trust other people. SURE! It's YELLOW...so go make your turn. FUCK NO. Until I am sure the cars coming towards me, in the lane I will travel across, are slowing down...I don't turn. I don't need them to be at a stop. I just want to make sure they have noted the light shall soon be red. See above, I have never ended up in a light post. I don't plan on it. SO...I make sure. I have spaced out and ran a red light. It doesn't make you a bad person! They are accidents. I just believe we are all responsible and it doesn't come down to just obeying lights. You need to have the sense that some people don't. I'm not willing to die or injure myself or anyone in my car to say "they should have stopped" NO.

Well...asshole in the BMW apparently doesn't think like me. He thought I should dart across the road the moment it turned yellow. When he was in the midst of his angry honk...and the light was still yellow.

OH HOHOHOHOHOH.... REALLY? He...fucked with the wrong Jetta.

I did my freak out and said "OHHH - you just got your reason to honk asshole"
The dude made the turn with me...into the close lane. I watched his ass...moved into the farther lane. So did I. I wanted to fuck with him. So when the traffic on Western was going he was stuck behind me. Behind me as I went 15 MPH. Dude is going bananas. I am laughing my ass off and screaming "Oh! YOU HONKED MOTHER FUCKER, I'M GIVING YOU A REASON FOR THAT HONK!" Traffic is just cruising along while he is again honking and I am driving 10 -15 MPH and he is trapped behind me.

Traffic clears and he gets in front of me and does what I was doing. WHAT? I am laughing...laughing. Throwing my head back in fits of laughter. IS this dude serious? I was the one going 10 MPH before, why would I care?


THEN HE STOPPED.

He stopped for all of one second but...thoughts in your brain race...

CRAP...I had visions of this madman getting out of his car, pulling me through the window and beating me senseless. I knew the razor I use to get old city stickers off was in my glove compartment. God bless city stickers, I thought, the only reason I have a weapon of sorts in my car.

But - he drove off and that was that.

I wonder if he still honks like that. But - more...I wonder if he really thinks giving someone a taste of 'their own slow driving medicine' actually works....negative.

Case #2:

Newly laid off and in a not so fantastic mood, we had street cleaning. My car was parked on the side to be cleaned. So at around 7:15 AM I was up and went out to move my car. I was driving in circles around the one way hell that is my hood. I turned onto Sunnyside, the street I reside, from an alley. I got to the stop sign, noted no one was behind me. I know, I know, it is annoying when some one is creeping around in their car looking for spots. No one was behind me. About 2 seconds later...I am up the block and some bitch is laying on her horn. Laying on her horn in a residential neighborhood at 7:20 AM.


In general..I fancy myself the police in this hood. Noise late at night or too early...I call the police. I am outside and someone blows the stop sign in front of the park where children play? I scream at them they missed a stop sign. If I am out front and they don't make a stop that I believe is complete enough...I meander out into the road...pausing...slowly walking. I make them stop - I make them pay for that faux stop. I am 75, if not 90 years old at heart. I am a crazy, cranky old lady. I am proud.

So, I was not happy that this bitch came barreling down the road AND was blowing her horn at an early hour.

I had to let go of my passion for quiet mornings to teach her a lesson.

I knew what she doing. She was using Sunnyside, my street - as an alternative to Montrose. NO. That is not what this street is. It is residential street with a park on it where children play. I will not have maniacs driving down it.

SO....I get the honk.

If it was a kind beep things would have been different. BUT it was an angry honk, she put some pressure and laid on it. Even then, had I NOT noted 2 seconds before that no one was there, I would have let it go. BUT - she was clearly in some kind of hurry as she was not on the street 2 seconds before.

AND....my beast is released.

I do my freak out that she honked then go. SHE HONKS AGAIN.

OH - IT IS ON. IT IS ON.

I stop.

She is laying on the horn. She stops. I go. She lays on it...I IMMEDIATELY STOP.

There was absolutely NO classical conditioning with this woman. I was actually at one point yelling that she was dumber than Pavlov's dog.

More importantly...I was SOOOO amused. I was JUST laid off.

I am looking at her in the rear view, windows open, screaming to her "LADY, I GOT NO JOB, VICTIM OF THE ECONOMY! I GOT NO WHERE TO BE, LAY ON THAT HORN, I'LL SIT HERE ALL FUCKING DAY...I GOT NO WHERE TO BE...I'LL PUT IT IN PARK, WANT TO SEE ME PUT THIS IN PARK??"

Victim of the economy - this bitch was messing with a distraught, depressed, confused, overwhelmed victim of the economy.

I held my ground. It was probably the most entertainment I had in 2 weeks. She got off the horn...I drove. She got on the horn...I stopped. It took about 10 minutes to get 1/16 of a mile. Again - I don't get what she didn't get. A dog, a fucking dog would have figured it out by then.

So glad she has a job....her being a genius and all....

I am fairly certain it was after that fiasco...I climbed the 3 flights of stairs, sat down and thought - that may have been slightly irrational. I needed to get my shit together. There would be no help. There would be no cheering squad. There would be no one helping me or telling me what to do. There wasn't a husband to give me health insurance. There was no roommate to split bills with. It was just me. I'd like to say I wasn't proud of that maniac in the car. But that would be a lie. I do like her. She doesn't take as much crap as pre-laid off Mere did, she speaks up more.

The Demise of America...

What is the demise? Is it the financial ruin we may face? The polarizing of our great nation over politics? Is it corn syrup?

The answers to the above are: NO. NO. and NO.

It is the TV programing of: The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and The Bachelor Pad.

I have never been an avid viewer of this garbage.

That is a lie.

I recall a certain group of hung over girls that chose to stay in their hotel room all day in New Orleans and watch an entire season of The Bachelor instead of facing the brutal heat, humidity, and raw sewage smell of the city.

Side note: New Orleans is a lovely and charming city, it is a city everyone should visit at least one. BUT DO NOT go there in August.

I have, on occasion, watched an episode to laugh at it and bolster my self esteem. I kept up with most of Jake's season. Mostly because that Jake is a complete tool and I was amazed that these women thought he was a catch. I assume all the bachelors are of this ... 'quality'.

The other night I helped myself to some Bachelor Pad. I don't really understand the premise of this show and that really doesn't matter. It was so terrible, I had to flee from my friend's apartment so I wouldn't have to watch another second.

Don't get me wrong, there is a huge comedy aspect to this crap programming. But, this Bachelor Pad situation has taken a turn. A bad turn.

You can only yell at a TV screen so much and tell someone they are out of their minds so much before it gets old. Then you just get filled with annoyance and anxiety which is not feelings anyone wants.

For instance: The part I saw is this Vienna moron getting worked up that Jake the Tool might join the group. How emotionally awful that would be. wa wa wa cry cry cry

I have a fucking crazy ass idea, VIENNA....if it is that horrifying, don't go on the TV show. YOU KNOW he might be on it. Why would you put yourself in a situation you claim to be so heart breaking?

For instance - A horrifying situation for me is getting mauled by a lion. Hence - I do all in my power to refrain from jumping into the lion exhibit at the local zoo. Even if the lions are not currently in the outside area...I still don't jump in!

Side note: I actually have been in the lion exhibit at Lincoln Park Zoo...but I was in on business and personally witnessed the lions were secured.

In another situation...a woman said that she was attracted to this man because he used 'big words'. In the scene before that...the 'big word' he used was: dysfunctional.

OHHHHHHH to be simple and consider dysfunctional to be a big word. I pray to all the gods currently and previously worshiped on this earth, the producers cut something out to make her look a fool.

I get this is all about ratings and this is what people like to see. But, I will not subscribe to this tomfoolery! EVERYONE STOP WATCHING THIS HORSESHIT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - BRING BACK THE SITCOM!

Oh wait...what do I hear?

Perhaps you assume I am just some bitter, old, single lady. A bitter, old, single lady that doesn't believe in true love. True, manufactured love that only elaborate, cross-country casting calls, several cameras, and a prime time network TV slot can supply.

NO.

Perhaps you think I hate this programming so much because I am not the type of girl that could be on it so....I MUST be jealous.

NO.

1. Let's discuss these men and women together:

What are these jobs they have?

Who has the ability to leave their job for several months to embark on an 'adventure of love'? This is sweet, sweet America. You are lucky if you get 3 weeks vacation in this country. The only way you get more than a month off and are guaranteed a job upon return is if a human being comes out of your vagina. I am not aware of the "I Am Pathetic And Need To Go On A Game Show To Find Love Act" that allows for this time.

Do they all have shit jobs?

When they say they are a 'marketing specialist' do they actually stock food at the grocery store and consider the arrangement of soup cans to be marketing?

Let's say they left a decent job for their 'journey of love'...have they seen the news? The world's economy isn't doing great. Do they expect to just jump into another job with 'The Bachelor/ette Pad' on their resume? What? Does that look good?

This must be the same mentality people use when spending $50K on an M.B.A. from an on-line university.

Newsflash: Wasted a whole lotta money and time on something that makes you look foolish and will get you nothing. Contrary to the ads...you are NOT a phoenix rising from the ashes...you are a dirty park pigeon eating out of an ash tray.

Oh wait - it IS SO endearing and romantic how they gamble everything on this 'journey'...isn't it?! They have such FAITH IN LOVE!! WHAT!?! WHAT!?! NOOOO!

Would it be adorable and touching if I my broke-ass drove my 2000 Jetta down to Vegas, hoisted the Jetta up on Red 5, and got all teary eyed and said into a camera "I just have so much faith in this process, I've never had luck here but I believe it it!!! I know that I'm gambling everything I have...but it will be worth it!"????

No. No. No. Dumb. You'd say I was an idiot.

2. Let's discuss the men:

I don't even want to be friends with or even remotely acquainted with a man that has toyed with the idea of being on this TV show.

It is gay to be a man on these programs. And by gay I mean both the controversial '80's/90's slang for lame and homosexual.

I can't imagine any dude I know wanting to appear of this program. I am cool. I have cool friends, not lame ones. Why would some lady want to be on this show? To meet lame dudes? I just don't get it. The dude selection is weak.

If they aren't lame, they are homosexuals. Homos that just can't admit they are homos. They have gone to great lengths to appear on a lame hetero dating show in an attempt to prove to Nana that they are straight and deserving of an inheritance. This is the only explanation...it is 2011...everyone is cool with gays. If you aren't cool with the gays - you are far more lame than the jags on The Bachelore/ette/ Pad.

3. Finally, the women:

They are all beautiful and hot. They have the outgoing personality to appear on TV.

Beautiful, hot, outgoing.....that is the recipe for finding a husband.

CLEARLY - these women are extremely and severely flawed in some manner that hides deep beneath the skin...a psychotic manner. THESE are the women that gave women the "crazy bitch' name. These are the women that guys go on a two dates with...dude doesn't call them again and before he knows it there is a rabbit boiling on his stove.

Again - only reasonable explanation.

OH...I hear it.....you are thinking one of two things:

a. But Mere, you are so stunningly beautiful and single in your old age, are you a crazy bitch?

Answer: NO. I am a fattie. A 5'9" fattie. Never been thin. I have always had the chub. I go up and down in weight dramatically, but have never been at an attractive weight. The cocktail for crazy and single is "beautiful, hot, outgoing". Not hot...also not outgoing...review the recipe.

b. You are just jealous of those beautiful, hot, outgoing girls!!!!!

Answer: NO. If I was hot and outgoing in addition to my amazing looks, grade-A sense of humor, and far above average intelligence...I would rule the world. Frankly, I don't want that kind of responsibility. This is an excellent example of how God is fair - no one gets it all. More importantly, I wouldn't waste my time on some TV show of jags if I was hot.

So there it is.

I demand everyone stop watching this bullshit. At the very least...only watch it on occasion. No need to keep ratings high. It is madness.

All I want in this world is America to be restored to the secure days during the Reagan administration...where TV programing was quality sitcoms about orphans and their golden retrievers residing legally with an old dude, where a midget black boy finds a home with a well-off white couple, where an ornery butler serves an average middle class family, or another average middle class family has a cat eating alien living with them.

These real America scenarios are far more realistic than a TV show about a bunch of a hot, attractive people who can't get a date.

Guarding....guarding....

I have been recently seduced by radio ads for the National Guard.

Maybe I should join the National Guard?!?! One weekend a month and 2 weeks per year. I can do that. I get a check and they pay for school. Sounds good!

This is how you get lured in. They sell it as helping your community.

Great! Super!

Then...reality set it.

#1 I am probably too old.

#2 I envision it as me throwing sandbags around when a random local river rises, beating down some unruly hippies at a Widespread Panic show, or maybe crowd controlling some drunk Croatians as an ethnic fest. This is probably not it.

#3 I thought maybe it would be like some mandatory monthly workout that I got paid for. I'd run around in mud, do a jig through some tires, scale a wall made of wood.

It is more likely I will have to wear camouflage and stand at attention or some shit which...would make me feel silly and then I would laugh.


Then...then...can you imagine? It is all Full Metal Jacket and some dude is screaming in my face "two things come from Chicago, people that work at banks and skanks, you don't look much like a banker!"

Then skank it is, sir!

Some high ranking officer would be screaming at me to climb the wall and I'd start crying like in Officer and a Gentleman or whatever movie I am thinking of.

Point is...I seriously considered this for about 12 hours - I went as far as to go on to the IL National Guard website. Which - by the way - SUCKS.

I can only assume someone in a military uniform will be buzzing my door in the next week. They know. They know I was looking.

Too bad I came to my senses. It's not all glorious sandbags and racially profiled crowd control.

Most importantly....I can not be disciplined at this age. I just can't. I can't take it seriously.

Maybe that is why there is an age limit on the military. My brain can not be properly washed, my soul not properly terrorized.

When I played rugby my coach was all over the forwards for being fat, lazy, and out of shape. My response: "Gary...you ever think maybe I don't want to be fit"

Not a good idea.

Hence...I would be discharged.

Naturally....

NATURALLY - the blizzard of 2011 would be followed by the heat wave of 2011.

I have 4 digits for you: 1995

That winter we had negative 60 wind chill ... followed by the death summer of heat.

No need to consult your Almanac...I am here.

I enjoy summers in Chicago. Ever since I moved back it has been mild. A couple stretches of 90 plus but for the most part a summer of 80 degrees. FANTASTIC! Beautiful! PERFECTION!

I should have known this would not last. Now...I am bitter.

That damn blizzard was the warning...from shit winters comes shit summers.

I am a bitter, angry, sweaty bitch.

I would take the lives of numerous puppies to have The Snowtorious B.I.G. roll its 9 foot snow drifts of furry through this town right now.

Show me a cute puppy...I'll snap its neck if you can guarantee me we can keep it at 85 degrees and below for the rest of summer.

I don't kid.

I'll snap the entire helpless litter's necks. That is how serious I am about hating this relentless heat.

Then....I'll kill your grandma.

I'll smother her with a pillow. I'll smother everyone's grandmother with a pillow if it means this heat is done. It is win - win. I get an enjoyable temperature and you get your inheritance. EVERYBODY wins on my plan.

I get it. We all don't agree on temperatures...The world don't move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you, may not be right for some. Diff'rent strokes to move the world and what not.

BUT - there is NOTHING tolerable about this weather. And let me tell you - the masses have spoken. Barely anyone is at the park: your casual book reader adult to your child in the playground to the old immigrants that drink wine and play bocce.





Most everyone is just looking out the window, "Oh look, it is sunny, it looks nice." They paw helplessly at the window like some kind of abused and forgotten shelter animal, awaiting its day of execution. They give a heavy sigh and walk away from the window, knowing it is not safe out there. No. It is not safe.

It is sad. This summer blows.